Learning to Take Charge
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: A slightly inebriated Roxy Lalonde tries to urge John into topping, but in a somewhat roundabout way. Anonymous commission.


The way Roxy's body sways tipsily makes you think that her kiss is going to be harsh. You've stolen sips of your father's drinks before just out of curiosity, but the intense burn has always turned you away, and you fear that her mouth is going to taste the same way. Her kisses are tracing up your neck, leaving dark blue lip prints up your neck and along your chin, as she takes her sweet, lazy time in moving up to kiss you. You suspect it's intentional, because she loves teasing you for your inexperience and the way you squirm when she gives you affection; you're new to this, and she finds your every reaction utterly adorable. Every time she descends upon you, your cheeks burn brightly without fail.

"You just stay awkward and adorable forever, okay?" Her voice wavers a little; she's not nearly as drunk as she could be, or as she's been in the past, but she's indulged a little. It's the first time she's put the moves on you with a little bit in the tank, and while she's mostly keeping on target, there's a few noticeable changes. She grabs your clothes harder, especially the band of your pants, which she's been holding only tightly for almost two minutes now without doing anything about. Her kisses linger a little longer, willing to savour the moment a bit more, and she's more intentional in leaving lip prints against your skin. The sway of her body isn't entirely without purpose either, grinding against you through your clothes teasingly; although never one to shy away from physicality, your girlfriend proves even more sexually forward when she's had a few drinks.

You don't know how to respond to her seeming request, so you give a nervous little, "Okay?" as she kisses the space right below your lips, fingers tightening in your hair as you linger a little cluelessly, unsure if you should lean your head down to join the kiss, or just let her finish her path up to your lips. There's no guide book on the matter; Roxy has guided you through everything you've done so far, from your first kiss onward, and right now she's throwing you a few surprises in her tipsy state. Your fingers caress her blond hair and run down her back, and you try to focus on just doing more of those, which draw relaxed purrs from her that rumble in the chest pressed against yours. The simple little bits of affection seem to work even better on her when she's drunk.

Her head snaps up the final inch, her teeth playfully seizing your bottom lip as she giggles, and finally you're kissing her, a little less clueless as to what to do now; you know how to kiss. At least, you think you do. She seems to like it when you do, and she's the only judge who matters, so you just roll with the idea that you're a decent kisser and go to town on your girlfriend. You're pleasantly surprised to find that she doesn't taste hard at all; there's no burn, there's no recoil. She tastes like vanilla and whipped cream, and there has never been quite so much kiss to enjoy as there is now, where she's a little sloppy and way too forward with you. You don't have her fire, nor her drunken recklessness, but you adore the flavour of her mouth tonight, and so you try to kiss her just as messily, which draws giggles you're not sure about the source of. She's been laughing all night, after all.

Finally, she does something with your pants, lifting up off of your lap and tugging at the band, trying to force them down stubbornly. You lift up off the bed and help ease them off, but she's a little frantic and over-eager about it, guided by her inebriated senses and her sloppy arousal, so you have to slip your thumbs down there and push, her hand clumsily following suit once you've given her the proper direction. It's hard to know what you're in for; the lack of harshness in her kiss is a relief, but her other hand tightens a little in your hair and you wonder if she's got enough of a handle on herself to know what she's doing. Not that you can stop her.

Not that you want to stop her.

The evidence of it is plain to see as your pants are done away with and you take care of your boxers before even thinking of letting her fumble around with them for almost a whole minute. You're hard, and with a gorgeous, giggly blonde who seems even more eager to mess around with you than she is when she's sober-which is still plenty-you don't think you could be anything else. "Is this for me?" she asks happily, taking it clumsily in hand, and it doesn't matter how challenged she was by your pants, because she knows how to wrap her fingers around your cock in her sleep, and if anything the oddness of her inebriated grip is exciting you. Before you can give some awkward reply lacking in the shameless sexual confidence of your girlfriend, she takes another long kiss, as if wanting to keep you from embarrassing yourself.

She's left her lipstick along your neck and your jawline, but now she has hunger only for your mouth, and you can already feel the dark blue smearing off along your own lips, but that doesn't even factor into the eagerness you throw into making out with her as she begins to pump her hand along your cock, making your hips rock excitedly. You reach for her sides, holding her from the waist and slowly letting your grip drift down her hips. Are you supposed to take charge right now? It's not very clear, but she's purring into your lips as your fingers reach around and dig a little into her ass, her hips wiggling excitedly, and so you pull her body a little tighter in against yours.

"Ooh, you're taking charge. Cute." She doesn't say it dismissively, like your attempt to take the reigns from your tipsy girlfriend are something to be derided. No, she genuinely finds it adorable, and gladly presses her body up tighter against yours as her thumb rubs under the tip of your cock, the rest of her hand steadily rocking away with its uneven, drunkenly sloppy grip. "Well come on, stud." Her tongue dragged along your cheek, sending a shiver up your spine, before she pressed her lips to your ear and whispered, "Tell me what you want me to do." The heat is on now, it seems, and you know you can't disappoint now. You need to just go for it and hope you don't screw up too much.

"B-blowjob?" comes out like you're about to choke a little on the word. You're in way too far over your head, but she's expecting you to try and so you do. The uncertainty makes her giggle a little, but it's a heavier one than before, charged and lurid, like she's trying to turn you on just to watch you twist for her hungry gaze. And you do, to an almost embarrassing degree, as she lets go of your cock and grabs the hem of your shirt. She pulls back a little from your lap, leaves you sitting at the edge of the bed with her standing over you as she pulls your shirt up and drags her lips down. Once her lips line up with your exposed chest, she's bearing kisses down into it, leaving more dark blue lip prints along your chest, then down your squirming thigh. She's quick, straddling the line between hurrying to her mark and teasing you, and it's all working out perfectly on her end.

She switches over to the other lap, another blue mark, and you can't help but ask, "How much lipstick did you put on?" She responds only with a giggle, gripping your cock once more and pulling it up a little as she leaves two identical lip prints on your balls, which shouldn't have you shuddering with anticipation as much as it does, but you're weak and primed and being taken advantage of by a tipsy girl who seems versed in seduction well beyond her years. Or maybe you're just an easy mark wrapped around her finger. It doesn't matter, because the smile she beams up at you with her lip between her teeth is taunting you to take charge, and you slip your fingers through her hair, trying to muster up all the courage you can to take the reigns. Her pink eyes beam up at you with a lustful certainty; she thinks you can do this, and so you don't have much choice.

You push her head down, and she moves a little quicker than you're urging, making her hair tug just a little against your grip as she shows her eagerness, giggling as she leans back a little and rubs her head against the back of your hand, purring a little as her lips part and she takes your tip into her mouth. There's a lot going on with her but you have no time to question any of it, and start to steadily guide her head up and down, hoping she doesn't get too excitable again and move faster than you're comfortable with pushing her. It's a concern that doesn't stay very long, as her head sinks down and the wet, warm feeling of her mouth around your penis sends you shuddering into happier thoughts.

There's a blankness that comes over your mind, mingling with need and sensation, that puts you at ease. Your steady hold on her head, guiding her up and down, gets a little faster as you settle down almost confidently into the role she's slipped upon you without you even noticing. The playful glimmer in her eyes says she wanted you to guide your drunken girlfriend down and take charge a bit more. And with each successive bob of her head, each twist and tightening of her lips around your shaft as she plants wet kisses along it, you're getting better about it. Her head speeds up, and it's not because she's drunkenly lost the beat, it's because you're moving her faster and she is eagerly following along.

All this time, Roxy's been the one guiding you. She knows what she's doing a whole hell of a lot more, and there's nothing that needs to be mustered up when it comes to sexual confidence with her. What she wants and how she'll get it are apparent, and you come along for the ride learning as you go. All of the blowjobs previous have been with Roxy very much in charge and you just writhing in enjoyment of them until you hit your peak and empty into her mouth. It's a good way to go, especially when Roxy comes back up, a little dribble of white out the corner of her mouth, quickly brushed away as she wipes her mouth before climbing into your lap and riding you. In fact, it's pretty hard to beat as far as ways to go go. But the more she sucks, her blowjob getting a little noisier as she leaves your groin wetter and wetter, the more you want to buck tradition rather than into her mouth. You're emboldened now, and ready to prove yourself.

You ease her up off your cock, ignoring her disappointed whimper that curls upward into an inquisitive, drunken noise as you pull her away too much for it to be simply wanting the blowjob to stop. You pull her upright entirely and then with surprising speed, almost to the point of roughness, you pull her down onto the bed, shoving her to her back. She laughs, more of an excitable and confused reaction than one of amusement, as you grab her pants and prove to her the benefits of sobriety by getting them, and the pink panties beneath, off of her with a single concentrated pull. Her rear lifts up off the bed to help, coming back down with intentional force that makes her bounce a little against the mattress. She's very easily amused in this state, but you try not to dwell too hard on that fact as you climb onto her; you want to know that her reaction to your first time 'on top' is entirely hers and not the vodka's.

You claim her lips first, and you can feel the smile curling against your mouth as she whispers, "Go for it," too loudly to actually be useful as a whisper, her hands grabbing your black hair and pulling you down deeper. You pry her legs apart, hooking one hand underneath one to lift it up as you drive down into her, and you're not sure whose moan was louder as your twin noises entwine one another, quivering and dying off in tandem. Something in your head is buzzing, and before you're even all the way inside of her you're already pulling up. It's not so hard after all; you don't really need the courage you thought your did, because your body is taking care of it all for you, leaving you free to slowly pull your girlfriend's top up, grabbing one of her breasts in your hand as you keep the kisses coming and just roll with things as they come.

Her body rocks up off the bed, meeting you feverishly as she purrs into your lips, her hands finding your back and your ass, gripping both tightly. She's not quite guiding you, perfectly content to let you go at your own pace-your hips moving faster with a steady enough rhythm that she has no complaints about-but instead holding tightly onto you. "I knew you could do it," she moans, biting your lip hard. The taste of whipped cream and vanilla rushes back, even more enticing now than ever before, and you're no longer the squirming boyfriend being drunkenly come onto. With that territory comes enjoying the flavour deep and hungrily, reveling in it as much as you are in the slick heat enveloping your cock, receptive to each hilting push down into it that leaves you shuddering and her completely elated.

You don't even suspect it's the vodka anymore, an important step forward in confidence that isn't lost on you. No, she's a writhing, moaning mess losing herself in her lips because you're fucking her well, not because she's loosened up by a couple drinks. Your name is on her lips, and her entire body is consumed by hungry lust, driving her to rock up against you, press her body tightly against yours. It's in her eyes, the fire, the attraction; it's like she's been waiting all this time for you to prove that you can give it as well as you can take it, no longer passively letting her ride your cock until your mutual peak. She couldn't be happier, but there's no use resting on your laurels; you still have to get her off before you can even begin to brag about it.

Pulling her leg up a little more, you quicken the pace, fucking her hard and fast, each thrust hitting her deep. She's soaked and oh so very receptive to your touch, to your thrusts. The end goal was to have your cock deep inside of her, but the road there and how exactly it happened was something she didn't expect, and she's thrilled about it; it feeds back into her arousal, into the burning need with which she kisses you and the way her breath hitches. Her hands dig in tighter, and it's all nonverbal cues of "fuck me" that are almost as satisfying as when her quivering, ragged voice lets it spill with all the needy intensity she's been holding back on. It's not fast enough for her, not hard enough, but thankfully you think so too.

Until you hit your peak you don't even realize what you've done. Not fully, at least. But as your knees tighten and your body hits its peak, it all comes rushing to your mind as you cum. The sudden rush of sensation hits you, makes you shudder and press down against her as your hips break rhythm, staccato thrusts following the rush of your seed into her that has her drunkenly cooing and writhing as she follows after you. The sudden clenching down is divine, and you're the one biting her lip this time as you writhe in unison, a lurid dance where you're both drunk, her on alcohol and you on some strange mix of courage and arousal that's guided you into something you never thought you'd ever do.

You both grind to a halt as you quiver down from your peaks, kiss easing from the heated, driven passion into something lazier. You did it, to your surprise. The smile on her lips has enough Lalondey self-satisfaction in it that you know it was her plan from the moment she opened the bottle. But it worked, and you're still high enough on the residual thrill of what you did that you hardly care, remaining locked in the slow kiss as you enjoy whatever the hell just came over you. It wasn't much, and you didn't even really get all that intense, but it was leaps and bounds for you, and so you take the victory presented and remain atop Roxy, buried inside of her.

"If I could get you to do that when I was drinking," she said with a smirk, pulling the vodka from the bedside table. "Imagine how great you'd fuck me when I got you too drunk to care."


End file.
